She got a lot of pretty pretty boys that she calls friends

It all started with tonight's season finale of "Gossip Girl." Yes, I watch it. And? The episode was filled with the requisite drama and some actually insightful relationship advice. Oh, and this song.

And if you know me, then you know that music makes me all like Benjy in The Sound and the Fury. The neurons start firing and I'm all over the place in terms of memories. One song leads to a memory that leads to yet another song and yet another memory.

Through it all was one question -- who do I want to be in this chapter of my life? I know that I can no longer go out five nights a week like when I was 30. (And before you have a hissy fit and all, let me just tell you that my rule on a "school night," was that I had to be on my way home by midnight at the latest. For the most part.) What I love about that person was that she could find fun in the smallest of things; she knew that sometimes the best happens when you least expect it. Life is not built upon plans. Well maybe for some it is but sometimes letting go is what one needs. It's all about flying without a net.

My mother and I were talking about my aunt recently. She was one of the biggest, coldest bitches around. I still remember crying years ago when I found out that she was talking major shit about me around town. I didn't speak to her for a year. And then she got sick. And I forgave her everything and was her friend again. Going on three years and I still miss the hell out of her. Because for all her shit talking, the lady certainly knew how to have fun and to be the life of the party. That's what I want -- minus the cruel bitchiness.

As much as I love some of my friends, I feel like they are the wet towel on me. My Santa Cruz friend recently posted on Facebook about feeling pressured for years to not truly express herself and to give into the will of her peers. I like to think that by peers, she didn't mean me. I had a weird life in high school. I hung with the "outcasts" yet I was involved in student government. Back in those days I had a conversation with friends about not fitting in. They told me that I could be accepted if I wanted to. Probably. In some ways back then I was deeply wrapped up in making everyone happy so that I could get their approval at some level. But what I love most about my angst-filled teenage self was that once she got that approval, she was able to walk away. She firmly believed in unconditional love.

But I guess this is all the heart of the partygirl me -- having fun and caring yet not caring what people think. I think over the last couple of years there has been plenty of the second and not enough of the first. It's giving one's self to not be perfect at all times. Because really perfection is quite boring. And boring is something I never want to be. What's the quote? "Well behaved women never made history."

The bad, the good and the tasty

Last weekend I held what I had hoped to be the first Derby de Mayo -- a blend of Cinco de Mayo and Derby Day. And of course I had meant to take photos of the food -- a blend of Mexican and Southern natch -- to post here but I got caught up in conversations. And then at the end of the evening I was kind of emotionally sideswiped. My last two guests in attendance, Emerald and Marin, decided to hold an intervention of sorts. "We think you've been drinking too much lately." Um, did you miss the partygirl memo? Sheesh. "And we think you should go to therapy." Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Really. Add up all my time over the years and I've done at least four to five years of therapy. As my last therapist told me about three years ago, I already have all the tools; I just have to give myself permission to use them. And sometimes sitting in the despair just feels kind of good while you're trying to figure things out. I awoke on Sunday emotionally drained. As such I slept most of the day -- literally. By Monday I was recharged and kind of pissed off. Pissed off is a good thing for me; it's where I find the energy to make change.

So now is about more change -- positive change. I joke about my nomadic soul. It comes from packing it in as a means of change. Now I'm working on how to stay in one place yet still effect change. It kind of helps that on Monday I received an unexpected cash infusion. After doing the responsible thing of paying some bills, I decided that I had some money for me. I have missed being a member of the Film Society but frankly it's rather pricy. So now I'm going to take some of this unexpected membership to join a museum in the East Bay that has lots of events. I figure that this will give me opportunities to meet new people. And I'll get reciprocal benefits at museums in San Francisco. A good thing since I still need to go see the expanded Balenciaga exhibit. I also found local ballet and jazz dance classes for adults at a reasonable price. I'm holding off on those until after I finish my month of boot camp in June. And today I upheld a previous commitment with Emerald to judge the science fair at her son's school. I was paired with a young woman who is new to the area. As it turns out, she is working for my father's previous employer. (And Bucko Ken's as well.) As we were leaving the fair, I asked if she would like to exchange phone numbers as she's new to the area and all. See? I'm good with this change thing.

The other good thing is that I finally had my piano tuned today. Thank you, Groupon. It's been years since I've made any kind of serious attempt at playing since I couldn't stand the sound of the thing. While the tuner said the piano was indeed severely out of tune (a half step), he was able to return it to a playable state. Love him. When I've called other tuners over the years, they have told me that it's an inexpensive model and I'd be better off buying a new one than trying to tune it. But this tuner got it. Upon seeing the piano, he asked, "It has sentimental value, doesn't it?" He also marveled that while it had lacked tuning for years, it had been well cared for. After he left, I sat down to attempt to play. My hands in the past had been rather stiff so I decided to go with what my hands knew best -- Beethoven's Fur Elise. I can still play nearly half of it from memory. It wasn't great but it wasn't completely horrid either. Now I need to locate my Chopin and Bach books. Maybe by the end of this year I can once more take stabs at Rachmaninoff. In the past playing the piano was one of my ways to relieve stress when I was feeling overwhelmed.

But I know. All this time you've been wondering about the photo. After the tuner left and before I attempted to play, I popped out to check on my mom's house. On my return, I stopped at The Brick Pig's House. The husband came out to take my order. The wife upon hearing my voice, came out from the kitchen and exclaimed, "You came back." I reminded her that I had told her on my last trip there that I had said I would return if all was as good as she promised. As I decided how much to order, I was asked how many I was feeding this time. "Still just me." The husband pointed to a photo on the wall of a young woman who had eaten an entire slab of ribs minus one in a single meal. "Why yes, there was a time in which I could have eaten an entire slab on my own." Now it sits like a challenge in the back of my mind.

I decided this time I needed a mix of the ribs as well as their brisket. Oh.My.God. My next trip there I may very well ask kind folks to adopt me. I have never in my life had brisket like that. It really did melt in the mouth as the folks on Yelp claimed. And to switch things up, I went with the blackberry cobbler instead of the peach. Reminded me of summers on my grandparents' farm.

Bottom line? In probably the best headspace in quite some time. Or at least I like to think so. Well once I finish dealing with payment for water damage to my place from upstairs unit.

Pre-coma

So today I did something I haven't done in a really long time -- went to a show in a large venue. And of course today would be the day that it was a high of 93 at the venue. Needless to say there was a great amount of water consumed. Oh and I remembered the sunblock before getting there.

What would make me venture into a large venue? The combination of Cameo, Gladys Knight, and Maze featuring Frankie Beverly.

I started to think after chatting with folks earlier in the week that many are unfamiliar with the latter. This was solidified when Frankie paused in the show to talk about the band's history.

They have been together for about 40 years, starting in Philadelphia. In 1972 they packed up and moved to the Bay Area. All because they heard Sly and wanted to be near the guy who was turning out that cool music.

The band has always gotten plenty of airplay on Black stations but has never really crossed over. As a result, Frankie described the band as kind of an underground band. They seriously have a cult-like following.

And so before I turn in for some much needed coma sleep after all those hours in the sun, I'd like to leave you with this song. It's always been one of my favorites of theirs.

So many things

So since that last post I've been meaning to write. The stuff there? A temporary setback. That was a sign of my warring inner selves -- the one who knows these people cannot be trusted and the one who wants to believe that people will understand and respect what I say. Notice I did not say agree. Unlike my mom, I'm not looking for agreement. All I've ever wanted is understanding.


I first thought of writing on Thursday night when I got home and found this lad howling on my deck. Seems he wanted in. And he eventually got his way. I refused to name him though since once you name them, they're yours. I sent him home with a coworker on Friday. Hopefully now he has a new home.


I took a half day on Friday. Besides packing up the kitten to go home with my coworker, I had my hair done and got a pedicure. Lesson learned is that I should not wait this long between pedicures. Another lesson learned is that I should take more time for me.


Finally, Drummer Boy was supposed to show up this weekend. In younger days, I would be crying over this slight. (Especially since I did not find out until Friday afternoon that he was not showing up -- because I texted him. Thin rope.) So I continued on with my weekend plans. I know you've seen this before but it's been quite some time since I have grilled ribs. And once it's lit, you just have to throw other stuff on it. I had to make sure that I had not forgotten what I learned. It was basically a practice run.

This year for my birthday, I'm hosting a BBQ. Last year I invited one of my coworkers and his wife. They were expecting an invite this year as well. So they responded yes but now they are rethinking. Why? Because the vast majority of the people invited are female. I explained that most of my friends are married and that some will be bringing their husbands. See my coworker didn't want to be the only guy present. So now he wants me to let him know a few days beforehand if other men will be present. My feeling is that if you are so worried about who else will be present, then you don't need to be present. So yeah, I uninvited them. Life's too short for that kind of bullshit in my opinion.

Final thought of the weekend is this song. I first heard it on "Ugly Betty" when they played it for the first dance at Hilda's wedding. I was near tears. I'm pretty sure that Maddie was bawling. After hearing it, I thought that I could suggest it to my dad and his fiance for their wedding -- because I was still speaking to them then. So if one of y'all out there is planning on getting married, I highly recommend this song to you. Although I still love Stevie Wonder's "As" but that song is something like six minutes long.

And maybe soon I'll be able to put together something that isn't as rambling in the near future.

Different day, same crap

There was supposed to be a food photo here but I just didn't have the energy when I left work today. Instead I decided to return a call from one of my dad's best friends as well as one to my uncle in Colorado. Part of me wishes that I hadn't.

Apparently my cousin never went to stay with my dad. And that crap about him attending meetings as he claimed in his text on Friday? Total bullshit. Or at least that's the read I've gotten from those who still have contact with him.

One of my uncles is in town with his wife specifically to see my dad. Thing is my dad is at his fiance's house while they are staying at his house.

And this past weekend they had a cookout at my dad's house at which no one smoked nor drank. But my dad kept disappearing for long periods of time. And near the end they could smell the alcohol on him.

Funny how some things never change. But they have. I wasn't there. And I refuse to be a part of this crap anymore. My dad may not think that he deserves better but I damn well know that I do.

I thought at the beginning that this would be a temporary thing but as each day passes, it feels more like something permanent. But like I said before. I've thought about this for over 20 years. Nothing new necessarily. Just finally taking action. Because this is all about living life and as long as I'm caught up in that bullshit, I'm not really living.

Extraction

I spent a great deal of time last week researching recipes so that I could show y'all some new stuff. What happened is I wrote my list and went shopping. Then the psychic attack began and I didn't want to cook.

It started with my cousin chastising me for having another cousin stay with my dad once he got out of the hospital. This is the busy time for me at work; if I take time off, it involves major changes. My cousin has a fluid work schedule. But because I was handing this off to someone else, I was lacking. I know this because I was asked "Why can't you be there the first night he gets out of the hospital?" This was asked about a relative who lives at least 2,000 miles away. I mentioned something about having a job, having bills. So yeah, folks who wanted me to take care of shit while not getting paid and possibly endangering my employment status? Yeah, they got a finger for their pain.

Thursday my dad got out of the hospital and proclaimed he wanted his business checkbook back. Because he could handle things. Like before. When he was two to three months behind on his bills. But I figured that he was a big boy and used to handling shit. Turns out that he is used to dealing with the present. The past? Please forgive him.

So by Saturday, I had decided that I had no father nor relatives on his side. Then I drove my mother across the Bay so she could leave the country. She was not satisfied with my answers about how I was handling my dad's situation. I was told that my wanting to disconnect was a sign that perhaps I needed to go back to therapy. And this is the point at which I decided that I don't have any blood relatives.

How is it that everyone is deep into dysfunctional behavior but I'm the one who needs therapy? I have spent way too many years being the crazy one. But I'm not crazy. I just want a life in which boundaries are respected.

Other than the ugly scene with mom on Saturday, I have not spoken to a family member since last Thursday. And I've never been more together in appearance.

My response to this, besides the "radio silence," has been to indulge in food. This is how I gained all the weight in the first place. I felt beat up beyond belief Saturday and so I went shopping. There was Haagen Dazs, microwave pizza and five layer dip with chips to name a few items.

Pity food is done. I'm backed to my pissed off strategy -- 900 to 1000 net calories. Yep. Eating disorder eating. But I'd need to lose 25 pounds from my current weight to be hospitalized. No need to fear that since I'm so far from that weight.

Cruising

Because I'm still feeling the cholita thing, I thought I'd share this video.

One of my faves from back in the day. I can just imagine cruising to it. Of course, La Nicoya says that Kid Frost is nothing but a punk ass bitch. Whatever. I like the beat. Give it a 79.

Jones

It's supposed to be a common surname. So much so that we have a phrase about it -- keeping with them. But this post is about a much more common name -- The Smiths.

Nowadays I listen to The Smiths in private. Music has always had a great deal of associations for me. It's what makes it easy for me to assign a specific song as a ringtone for a particular person. I hear a song and am instantly reminded of a specific person or place.

I fell in love with The Smiths the shortly after buying a copy of "Meat Is Murder" back in 1985. But it was a few years later in life that the band became permanently enmeshed in my emotional life.

By 1986 I was well on my way to showing folks what an emotional wreck I was. And The Smiths released their album "The Queen Is Dead."

In 1987 I started dating the guy my friends eventually called The Roach. He wormed his way into my heart when I was at my absolute lowest. He made a lot of promises and broke my heart. And then I took him back many months later just so that he could do it again. We repeated this whole process over a course of two years. I guess on his side I was his goddess with clay feet since he had observed me for many months before we even started dating and as a result he had this image in his mind as to who I was. I don't think that I ever lived up to this image.

But back to The Smiths. This guy was also the bassist with a popular party band around town. They did covers and one of the two songs he sang lead on was this one. And still to this day, I cannot hear this song without picturing him. So I usually don't listen to it.


Around this same time, I had this alleged friend with whom I would catch a ride between the Bay Area and San Diego. Our soundtrack for the drive would be The Communards and The Smiths. But this song just had so much meaning as you're cruising 5 with your "friend."

Oh, and the reason why she ended up not being a friend? The reason why I lost several female friends in college and grad school days -- they were using me for my social connections. As a result of those years, I have an easier time becoming friends with men that women. Well that and the lovely relationship I have with my mother. And girls are a rarity on my father's side of the family; they treat me as a hybrid of princess and tomboy. I'm much more guarded with women than I am with men. So if you're one of those women with whom I've dropped my guard, consider yourself lucky. Then again maybe it's part of an ugly cycle. I feel more comfortable hanging out with guys.


But at least I have one song that isn't about any of them. And this is the one I play most often.

Road music

The key for lone road trips is having the right supply of tunes on hand -- as well as a cellphone. Actually I suspect that part of the reason why I'm such a phone person is my love of the lone road trip. Enough hours on the road and you start wishing to hear a voice other than your own. Going to Marina in October wasn't that bad as it was only about two hours on the road. After two hours though I start jonesing for the sound of someone else's voice. My aunts were the ones who used to keep me company on the road. My dad's older sister, who passed away last April, could stay on the phone with me for at least an hour. And so the trip this weekend was hard but I survived it.

Enough of that sad crap though. In between the phone calls, music is key for getting through a solitary drive. I don't know about you but I need a strong rhythm. But not too much because next thing you know, you're cruising at 95 mph and worrying about the CHP pulling you over. So I leave you with some of my favorite songs for the road.

There is usually a lot of rock in the mix.


But I also love my R&B/rap. Especially this song that I consider to be the partygirl theme song. Actually this one is more a life theme. Applies to everything in life. Who the hell cares what other people say as long as you are not harming anyone else? It's your life. Live it.

Finding center

When I started this blog, I said that Tuesdays would be about media. And now I'm trying to get back to that place. I think the theme for today comes from these song lyrics...

"Don't matter you're wearin'
It's about the way you wear it"

Really it is. It's about the attitude that you have when you walk in the door. You have to own the place. And to not be afraid of it.

I could do this in college without thinking about it but if anyone complimented me on this, I would pooh-pooh them. This changed after the year I spent in therapy in my post-grad years. (And silly you, thought that this would be all about music.)


During that year, I worked through the exercises in the book pictured. All these years later, I am not completely there but now I am cognizant of my triggers -- and the root of these triggers.

I know that when the ground beneath my feet suddenly feels like it's slipping, I will try to grab control wherever I can -- usually in trying to control my weight. I know that I can find other ways to ask for help instead of destroying myself. I know that I am not alone; I just sometimes choose the wrong people upon whom to depend. But most of all, I know that I am more than the negative voices I heard in my life that I managed to internalize along the way. And contrary to those voices, I am a good person, I am attractive, I am deserving of all the good that comes my way. And when I forget this, I re-read passages in this book.


But before this book, there was another. There was a book that told me that we as individuals can survive almost anything. To me Taoism is about letting it all happen. You are yourself regardless of the events in your life. This has been my go-to book over the last 20-plus years when I feel like I am losing my way, losing myself. I cannot count the number of times I have read this book. It is always one of the first things I unpack when I move.

And why now? Well, there's been lots of crazy going on around here -- family, work, the holiday season. And so I've gone back to my favorite books while I try to figure out how I plan to navigate future holiday seasons.

Dance party

So this weekend, I wanted to eat loads of stuff but now I know that if I want to eat like that, I need to have some physical activity to offset the caloric intake. That's how I found myself dancing at home once more on Friday afternoon. And I was feeling this sense of independence so I returned to some of the songs of my teens and 20s.

First on the list is "Institutionalized" by Suidical Tendencies.

"MY best interests?"

That got me thinking. Why is it the people who are the most apt to say that they are doing what is best for you are the least likely to really know what you need?


This is probably the tamer of the Oingo Boingo songs that I used to play when my mom would get mad at me and send me to my room. My response? Blast some Boingo from the stereo. But like I said, this one is pretty innocuous. It was more like a prelude for things to come.


Definitely the song for pissed off youth.

"They say you lost the ability to even think
That your tiny little brain
Slipped down the kitchen sink"


My absolute favorite.

"Who makes the rules?
Someone else."

Hearing those lines always made me want to reply, "Fuck that."

So yeah, these songs kind of sum of my current state of mind. Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do because you might not like the response.

And as I continue to figure out who will be in my life and to what extent they will, I am thinking I will add some songs to the mix. Like maybe selections from The Smiths' "Meat Is Murder." And my old theme -- Ministry's "Everyday Is Halloween."

For the birds

So yesterday after sleeping for a total of 12 hours the previous day, I had all this energy. Go figure. While I did various house work, a plan started to form. I would leave my secret lair and go out to see the world. (Yes, I showered and put on something other than my yoga pants for this endeavor.)

The original plan was that I would walk to the zoo even though I could tell without looking out the windows that it was overcast outside. Then I exited and saw that everything was wet. As in it had recently been raining kind of wet. Scratch the walk to the zoo. It would be enough to simply walk around the zoo. So I hopped in the car. Next time I'll choose a day with better weather. And I'll leave out early enough that I won't have to worry about having to walk back in the dark. Along a street that has no sidewalks. Upon which folks are usually cruising at 40 or so.




Now the highlight for me is usually the big cats. But it was cold and kind of damp. I thought as I looked at them, "If I wanted to see some cats lounging around all day, I could have stayed at home." And that last photo? That's right. The bobcat couldn't even be bothered with sleeping in the open.

Now onto some of the other animals...

A dromedary.


Zebra


Hyena


Meerkat!!!!



Giraffes!!!


An eland.


A chimp.

Malaysian Sun Bear



And now I have new favorites. The gibbons absolutely rock. Although it was so annoying to hear kids run up to their enclosure repeatedly proclaiming, "Look! Monkeys!" Finally an intelligent parent came along and responded to his kids, "Do you see tails? Because monkeys have tails. Primates don't."

If my fingers hadn't started going numb, I could have spent all day watching the gibbons.


And finally I will leave you with this lovely earworm that has plaguing me since I first decided to go to the zoo. Enjoy.

For David

So tonight I was getting my groove on and then a song dropped that made me think of David. Strange because this will always be a song that I associate with summer school in England. In fact I thought of digging out one of the photos from that summer but then I remembered that I had already posted photos from that summer.

And then as the tunes continued, I thought of David -- and perhaps Maddie -- once more. This song dates from when I lived in the Mission District of San Francisco -- at the beginning of the hardcore partygirl days. Because I still kind of miss that person. Especially when I grab something out of the closet since that person was 20 pounds lighter than my current self.

Fall back

I was thrilled beyond belief to step on the scale yesterday morning to discover that I had lost three pounds. Of course, then my mind started racing. Could it be still possible? Could I drop easily as long as I was focused like in those days of yore? We'll see. In the meantime, I thought I'd like to give thanks to the folks who made those three pounds possible -- the folks to whom I listened while walking or while dancing around in my living room. The cats really love the latter -- especially when I tell Boris that I could work in some weights by holding him while I'm dancing.

This is Jade's theme song. And while I was walking last Friday, I finally understood why. I was starting to drag until this came on my iPod playlist. Suddenly there was a little more pep in my step.

Lose It likes to differentiate between dancing and aerobic dancing. My mindset is that if you have an accelerated heart rate and your breathing is a little quicker, then it counts as aerobic.

I was feeling pretty good during this song. And near the end when Too $hort takes the lead, I found myself thinking, "Well hell. I've been down around 67th and Foothill. I used to work in the area when area when I was teaching. And I had no fear when I worked in the area." Too $hort was probably the first person to pronounce the word "bitch" as "beyotch." That's some straight out Oakland stuff.


And then the Republica kicked in. It was on then. Even if I was at the 20 minute or so mark.


How do you wrap this up? With the song that I think should be the official song for the state of California. I really don't understand why it's not already. And I mean that whole, "Shake shake it baby," section? If that doesn't get you all aerobic, then I don't know what will. The only improvement they could make is to mention Richmond. Richmond's a hell of lot tougher than Oakland. (Ignore last year's stats on the most dangerous cities in the U.S.) People in Oakland are afraid of folks from Richmond. Really. Well folks who look like me from Richmond that is. And who are willing to say things like, "Bitch please."

And wish me luck in maintaining my sanity over these next few days. My mother had her surgery today. That means that she will be needier than even. Fucking shame my well is dry. Dry to the point that I had a mini-meltdown at work on Monday. The reason why I said that I can't do whining people is because of this. I'm treading water here and whining people will just drag me down.

Surf or die

I haven't really been doing food posts as of late. Why? Because I've been eating for existence for the most part. Nothing exciting there. But then I decided to mix things up.


I have been existing on stone crab claws for the last few days for dinner. Just steamed up with some melted butter. There had been some Dungeness crab in the mix . Just caught a bad crab though. And my digestive system has not been too thrilled with that bad choice. Didn't deter my thought of having crab though.

And now on the fifth day of crab, I could not help but think of one of my favorite 80s songs. (Sorry for the crappy quality on the video but it's all about the lyrics so take a listen.)

I still own my 12-inch of this song. Apparently the Surf MC's are classified as being California surf punk rap. Completely defines who I was in the 80s.

iPhone Love

On Saturday I was cruising up to Napa and grooving to the radio.

I mean, after all, they threw on "Back to the Hotel" -- a song that deserved to be cranked up just like the station's choice for Friday night, "Blow the Whistle."

But along the way to Napa they threw in something new. And I was suddenly happy that I own an iPhone because I started up Shazaam. Once the song was identified, I was able to click through to iTunes to buy the song.

I don't know about y'all but I'm loving the whole 70s groove in the video. Makes me think that it may be time for a new 'do.

Partygirls unite!

A while back I tried to embed this video, stating that it would be my new theme song for this summer. Go ahead. Click through. I'll wait.

Then I forgot about it until it was used in a routine for SYTYCD.

I don't know about you but it kind of reminds me of my evenings out on the town. The first video, not the second. Well, maybe a little of the second.

An epiphany of sorts

I work for a company that has 120 employees at its peak. Of the 120, 6 of us are female. I'll let that sink in. One more time. Six of us are female. Out of 120. It is the epitome of "working in a man's world."

When I tell folks about my typical day at work, many folks are shocked. Mostly about the stuff that comes out of my mouth while at work. I drop f-bombs quite liberally. I make all kinds of hand gestures. Today I threatened to flog one of the guys. And one of my coworkers regularly threatens the guys with punching them in their throats. It's a weird dynamic. We have made them fear our ire. I also know they recognize that we're smart. We can do stuff that they can't. And I'm not talking about giving birth. It's a question of why they treat us as they do -- the fear of bodily harm or the respect of our intellect.

Being at work is like being around my dad's family to me -- I'm just one of the guys. Like I said previously, I don't wear skirts or dresses to work that often. When I do, it's like I'm not really one of the guys anymore; I'm that chick with legs. And I like being one of the guys.

I also like to protect my wardrobe as I often have to go into the warehouse. And there was that time I climbed the ladder. As a result the guys keep joking about sending me out on walks. OK with me. I make good money but they make even better. They know that I want to understand everything that they do. The thing that I have learned through my experiences in life is that if you're female and give certain guys a doe-eyed look, they'll tell you all kinds of things. Things that can help you get a better job. And sometimes my inner feminist screams her head off but then I tell her, "By any means necessary." Because it's not like there's any sex or stuff like that. Well, maybe in their minds but can I help that?

What got me going through this whole train of thought was this song. (Wish I could have embedded the video but apparently it's not allowed. And yeah, I still love this song.)

I can tell the guys to kiss my ass, to fuck themselves, whatever because I bail their asses out just as many times as I tell them what they can do. And if I didn't, I would have been laid off when the receptionist was. Then again she never told them to kiss her ass so maybe there's something to it all.

In that mood

The last couple of weeks have been filled with a great deal of reminiscing. And I know that I have just started down that hard road of "over a year" that won't end until next April. While Saturday was a bit rough, I know the month of September will be absolute hell. My two aunts and my stepmother? All born in September. And so I give you this as part of my memories.

My dad's younger sister -- who was so much fun -- would sometimes ask me to put together mixes for her for her walks. Now mind you, this was the woman who believed strongly in creative visualization. She needed music that made her feel good. And so I give you selections from the last mix I made for her.

The food will resume tomorrow.

My way and the highway*

So I wouldn't post photos of the eggs before because they weren't made the way that I wanted to -- with a little bit of Romano cheese mixed into the yolks. But yesterday I corrected that. And my mother doesn't know what she missed out on. They were delicious, in my opinion. Oh, and this batch of eggs peeled perfectly. Even after time in the fridge.


But let me rewind things. The eggs were the last thing I made on Saturday. I started off making another batch of the Spicy Lemon Marinated Shrimp. And then I cooked up some boneless, skinless chicken thighs -- salt, pepper, tarragon and some white wine. Then I made the eggs. Oh, and a pot of brown rice. And everything was complete by 9 AM. Then I did some cleaning.

Why this fury of activity? Because yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my aunt's death. My original plan had been to go out on Saturday night. But then everyone seemed to be busy. Typical. So then I decided that I would go out on Friday night instead but I was so tired when I got off of work and headed straight home. And by Saturday? I decided that going out alone was not a good idea.

Yeah, not a good idea. Not that I have a problem with going out alone. I've been doing it quite a bit for a number of years. Of course, I could have gone to Sacto but I just wasn't feeling up to the drive. And besides, I'm an independent woman and all that other shit. As long as I have myself, I don't need anyone else. And so last night I sadly remembered that Jill Scott sang, "There's just me. One is the magic number."

And then this morning I awoke and proclaimed, "There's just me. One is the magic number." And I got my ass dressed in one of my boho outfits -- dress worn as a top over jeans with flip flops. Then I told the cats, "Peace out, bitches!" and hit the road.


The first stop was Sebastopol. Because I needed products from beekind. Really.

Originally I had planned on backtracking to Petaluma and picking up the Bodega Road west but then the lovely woman at beekind suggested that I continue into Sebastopol to check out this tea house, Infusions. Oh, and then I may as well check out the market as well since it was right across the street. Infusions? Cool place even though I didn't have anything there. And fitting with the California thing, they have meditation sessions there.


I left there in search of an ATM. Just in case I saw something at the market I liked. Not that I was planning to buy anything there.

But then I got to the market and the Bohemian Farmers Collective had a stand. With a name like that, I just knew I had to buy something. (Oh, and now Sepastopol is quite possibly my favorite town in Sonoma County.)


Chard and zucchini from the Bohemian Farmers Collective, organic blackberries and boysenberries from Sebsstopol Berry Farm, Bodega goat cheese from Yerba Santa Goat Dairy, and Santa Rosa plums. Sorry lost the card for the plum place.




At this point I decided to stay on 116 out to the coast. Glad I did because if I had gone the other route, I would have missed all of the above. Oh and I so want to stay at the place that offers horseback riding on the beach. Yeah, those dark spots in the last photo are horses crossing the highway.


The next stop was Pt. Reyes Station. It's been nearly a year since I've last been there. Really quite ridiculous.

Selection of cheeses acquired at Cowgirl Creamery.

Yes, I know that I can get some of the products from Cowgirl at Berkeley Bowl. Yes, I know that Cowgirl has a shop in the Ferry Building in San Francisco. But I don't really like the Ferry Building. Kind of like how I don't like certain farmers markets. And the drive to San Francisco is not as pretty as the drive to Pt. Reyes.

On the way home, I got to go through one of my fave towns in Marin County -- Nicasio. I don't know much about the town but those few seconds I've seen of it driving through somehow resonate with me. Oh, and you have to wonder about a town that has a building named "Druid's Hall."

If I'm going straight to Pt. Reyes from the East Bay, I take Sir Francis Drake through San Anselmo and then turn off near San Geronimo to head for Nicasio. On the return I never go that way. Instead I turn off Nicasio Valley Road onto Lucas Valley Road -- which is where you'll find Skywalker Ranch. I have a pretty good idea where the property is even if you can't really see it from the road. But that's not important because today I saw a fawn grazing at the side of the road. If I could have pulled over safely, I would have taken a photo for Beth.

As I headed past the last Marin exit before getting on the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge (There are eight bridges in the Bay Area. And most of us try our best to never have to cross them. I know. Silly.), I remembered that back when I was kid and we were leaving Marin County, I'd say to my aunt, "Hey! Don't you need to check in at home?" She would respond, "Oh my goodness. I almost forgot that I needed to take you home." For those of you not familiar with the area, the last exit is San Quentin prison.

Driving across the bridge, I thought to myself that today had been a really good day. And then I thought about my birthday two years ago. My aunt suggested that we try a different restaurant once a month. We didn't do it. My aunt reminded me of this last year when we were out to lunch for my birthday. We promised that we would in the coming year. Then six days later she died.

Last August I tried to start up the monthly girls' night once more but that was a frustrating experience. Why? Probably because we were talking about too many schedules. Today? I remembered that list of places that I'd like to take day trips or weekend trips to. Places that I could drive to. In the last year, I have only scratched one place off the list. So I'm thinking at least one a month. But now that it's summer and the weather is so good, I'm thinking that I might be able to fit in more than one a month. Because today I managed to not feel sad given all the crap that has happened over the last year. And that's always a good thing.

Oh, and the other important thing learned today? The importance of letting a blog post marinate. Because that Saturday stuff? Yeah, I wrote it last night. But once I decided to head out today, I decided that posting could wait. Just in case. I'm glad I did. To me it's proof that I'm pretty good of taking care of me when I need to.

*I clocked almost 200 miles on the road today.